


a ruff life

by CGotAnAccount



Series: ADVENTure Is Out There! [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Accidental Dognapping, Baby's first angst, M/M, SHEITH - Freeform, j/k happy endings only club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:56:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21677860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CGotAnAccount/pseuds/CGotAnAccount
Summary: Everyone loves Komso, he's the perfect good boy – he does no wrong, is polite to a fault, and is the best guard dog a boy could ask for.And he's...“I'm telling you, he's getting chubby.”
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Series: ADVENTure Is Out There! [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558660
Comments: 54
Kudos: 252





	a ruff life

**Author's Note:**

> listen frens, I can't do 31 clever titles. I can't. I as a human am not that clever. just forgive me.

Few things in life pained Keith as much as admitting Lance was right about anything – maybe that time he slammed his fingers in the hood of the car he'd been working on after the last double shift in the shop. Maybe.

Usually he managed to avoid this type of situation by ignoring him altogether, but he had thought it was a safe topic. Everyone loves Komso, he's the perfect good boy – he does no wrong, is polite to a fault, and is the best guard dog a boy could ask for.

And he's...

“I'm telling you, he's getting chubby.”

Keith grits his teeth and continues wiping down the side of his bike, wondering why he even agreed to host this week's picnic.

“I wouldn't say chubby...” Hunk raises a hand diplomatically, gesturing to where Kosmo is happily laying belly up in the grass. “He's just... full.”

“Pleasantly plump?” Pidge offers, not even trying to hide her smirk over the top of her bottle. “A little bit hefty?”

“He is _not,_ ” Keith definitely doesn't growl as his hand clenches tight on the rag. Kosmo's ears prick at the tone and he rolls onto his side, eyeing the other three with intent. He's a good boy. “He's just... growing.”

“Horizontally,” Lance mutters, earning a swift glare from Keith and a elbow to the gut from Hunk. “Hey! I'm just saying...”

“You're saying nothing.” Balling up the rag, Keith stands to scowl down at him. “I'm not feeding him any differently than I have been, and he's not running any less than normal.” He throws the greasy cloth in Lance's face just to hear him screech before stomping over to give his sweet boy a hug. “He's _fine_.”

“Alright, alright.” Pidge leans forward to hook a finger into Lance's collar, stopping his sputtering rise from the chair. “No more teasing Kosmo, we get it.”

“Good.”

The words come out just a tad venomous as Keith sets himself to the task of giving the best scritches a dog could ask for... but he can't help noticing there is just a bit more belly to scritch than there used to be.

It bothers him all night, long after the cans are cleaned up and the guests waved away. It's not like Kosmo isn't healthy – he's still as energetic as the day Keith picked him up from the shelter, all floppy ears and gangly legs tripping over his too-large paws. He hasn't slowed down one bit on their walks, still forcing Keith to jog nearly every morning just to keep up with his whims. It's doesn't make any sense.

There's no good reason for him to be slowly but surely putting on little doggy pounds here and there. There's nobody else around to feed him scraps, and he's got free run of the house and the yard all day while Keith is at work. He could even go into the woods that border the clipped grass if he wanted to, though Keith's never seen him bother.

Even a trip to the vet brings no further illumination, no gland problems or digestive issues to worry about. He's not even over a healthy weight for a dog his size, since he can't seem to stop growing in every direction anyway... but still, Keith hates a mystery.

It bothers him enough that he asks Pidge for help and ends up installing nanny cams all over the house and yard just to keep track of his sweet boy. Maybe he's eating something he's not supposed to and getting sick, maybe he's lonely and sad all day and can't be bothered to run around anymore, maybe – as Hunk says – Keith needs a hobby.

The first day of watching Kosmo is admittedly boring.

The best boy ever seems to have a routine of sighing longingly at the door after he leaves, which is equally gratifying and heartbreaking, before immediately jumping on all the furniture he's not technically supposed to be on – even though Keith never enforces the rule because _have you seen those eyes?_

There's no opening and closing of fridges to gorge on people food – which Hunk had laughed at, but even without thumbs Keith is still privately certain Kosmo could manage it if he wanted to. There's also no lack of running, jumping, and general frolicking in the yard. Several holes are dug and filled in, the grass is happily rolled in, squirrels are chased... there's nothing weird about it.

It goes on like this, day after day until Kolivan gets a bit concerned and asks if Keith really needs to keep a feed of his dog propped up above his work station at all times, and maybe isn't that just a little obsessive?

He walks away before Keith can even get to the part about the two percent increase in body weight since the last checkup. Keith keeps his feed running.

It's not until day nine that there's a breakthrough. Kosmo appears to be on the squirrel chasing part of his day when he suddenly stops, ears perked, and whirls around – tearing off toward the sidewalk. Keith frantically tabs through the camera angles to keep him on screen, hoping he's not about to watch his good boy obliterate the neighbor's asshole mop-dog for crossing the grass line.

What he sees is nearly worse.

Blatant infidelity.

Kosmo doesn't even try to skid to a stop, tongue lolling as he barrels right into a stranger, who immediately throws his arms wide to catch the furry missile with a laugh.

Keith flicks the sound on, heart in his throat.

“Who's a good boy?” The guy coos, ruffling Kosmo's ears back and forth, making his happy doggy head flail in a way he only lets Keith do. “Who's the best doggo in the whole wide world?”

Kosmo yips, planting his butt and prancing his front paws forward, leaning to slobber kisses all over the man's (disgustingly handsome) face.

“That's right,” The guy kisses him right back, grabbing Kosmo's paws in his hands and wiggling them together. “You're the best boy!”

Kosmo absolutely sparkles. It's like watching one of those cartoons with the heart eyes and the glimmering air bubbles. His dog is in love with another man. A man who apologizes to Kosmo for being away so long. A man who talks to his dog about his business trip and how sad he was to miss their play time like this affair has lasted a considerable time. Keith's heart gives a little lurch as Kosmo rolls over, belly up and tail wagging so hard he's wiggling himself closer to the guy with every flail. He thinks he hears it crack when the guy leans down, a little shock of white hair flopping into his face as he blows a raspberry into Kosmo's belly.

A raspberry.

Into his belly.

That's _Keith's_ belly to smooch.

That's _his_ furry best friend with his happy doggy paws and his slimy doggy kisses.

Then, the coup de grâce. One shiny metal hand reaches into a pocket and pulls out a veritable hoard of doggy treats - Keith can tell even from the range of the camera they're the good kind – and Kosmo runs through every trick Keith's even seen him do and even a few he hasn't as the guy showers him in praise and snacks.

Keith doesn't cry. He might seethe, he might sniffle... but he definitely schemes.

A week later he takes a day off of work, prepared after studying the man who has stolen his dog from under his nose on the grainy feed above whatever engine needs fixing each day. Kolivan welcomed the vacation, mumbling something about psychotic breaks when he signed off.

But he doesn't understand, it's not his best boy slipping through his fingers...

Keith doesn't let on to Kosmo that anything is wrong. He might give him extra snuggles, might make him a nest on the bed and let him share his pillow and tuck him in – for no particular reason – but he knows Kosmo will smell the slightest hint of suspicion on him if he thinks about the _other man_.

On his day off Keith rises early and takes Kosmo on their usual morning jog, letting him stop and sniff and frolic to his heart's content. They play tag in the park and make an attempt at fetch before jogging home and rolling around in the yard.

And if Keith stays tucked behind the porch just out of sight of the road as they near the interloper's usual time, it's just a coincidence...

Until Kosmo's ears prick at something and he whirls from where they'd been tugging on a rope, letting his end drop like yesterday's kibble. One happy bark later and he's tearing down the yard, leaving Keith's heart puddling after him as he peeks his head out from the edge of the wooden railing to scowl.

Sure enough, that asshole shows up jogging down the sidewalk, a blinding grin stretched across his face as he drops to his knees on the edge of the yard.

“Buddy!” His voice is smoother in person than on the grainy video and Keith has to stomp down the small interested part of him that pokes its head up as those running shorts pull tight across his thick thighs. “I missed you!”

Keith thinks, not a little pettily, that it's been one whole day since the last time he tried to steal Kosmo. He's not allowed to miss a dog that's not his so soon.

Kosmo doesn't seem to agree as he barrels into the guy, a thrashing bundle of happy licks and dancing paws. It's disgusting.

“Guess what I got today!” The man baby talks to Keith's only son as he leans to fish something out of his pocket. “I bet you know what to do with it, you're such a smart boy.”

It's a tennis ball. An obnoxious neon green tennis ball. The kind that Keith has been trying to get Kosmo to chase for years to no avail. He creeps forward out of his hiding place, eyes narrowed and smug as he waits for the guy to realize Kosmo is _his_ ridiculous dog, not some fetch-playing mutt of the neighborhood.

The guy winds up in one long, smooth motion that makes all his considerable bulk stand out in the right places – and throws.

The ball goes whipping past.

And so does Kosmo.

Keith's jaw drops in disbelief as ninety pounds of muscle goes hurtling by him, tongue flapping and eyes bright.

That bastard got _his_ dog to play fetch.

“What the fuck!” The words are explosive as Keith stomps out from behind the porch, hands thrown into the air. “Really Kosmo? This whole time?”

Kosmo skids to a stop, tripping over his paws and rolling head over tail as he scrambles up to cock his head at Keith, tail still wagging.

The ball rolls to a stop against a tree with a tiny thump.

Keith does not sniffle, no matter how much the utter betrayal stings.

“Kosmo, I thought you were my best friend.” His voice might wobble, just a tiny bit. It's enough to have Kosmo trotting over, tail low and ears pinned back. “I thought... I thought we were special.”

His eyes might sting a little, but it's only allergies.

Allergies that conveniently blur the form of the guy walking over, hands raised in appeal.

“Uh, hi there, I'm Shiro.” He's clearly hesitant to get very close to Keith, who knows he must look like a lunatic to the stranger. “I guess Buddy – er, Kosmo, is your dog?”

Keith half shrugs, half nods. Who knows how long that'll last now that he's found someone to play fetch with.

“He's a good boy.” It comes out as a croak as Keith wills his lip not to wobble. Kosmo whines and butts up against his knee. “He likes belly rubs... but I guess you already know that.”

“Yeah,” the guy, Shiro, huffs a laugh in agreement. “He's probably the nicest dog I've ever seen, a real sweetheart.”

He's not. Keith knows he's not because Kosmo only tolerates everyone but him and Mom... and this guy. He can't even look at the guy, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on Kosmo's sad, confused puppy face.

“He likes prime rib sometimes, but not sirloin...” Keith sniffles, drops to his knees, and hugs his face into Kosmo's fur with a wail. “Kosmo don't leave me for him, _please_.”

“Wait, what?” The guy takes a step back as Kosmo whines and snuffles through Keith's hair. “I'm not gonna take-”

“I swear I'll give you more treats,” Keith chokes out into his fur, clutching into the silky strands. “I'll give you more belly rubs and let you eat at the table and I'll punch Lance when he says you're getting fat and-”

“Woah, hey man-” The guy clamps a hand down on Keith's shaking shoulder as he squats low next to them. “I don't want to steal your dog or whatever you think is going on here... that's fucked up.”

“I know!” Keith hiccups, pulling his face away from Kosmo to scowl up at him. “It is fucked up, why would you steal my best friend?”

“I'm not,” he protests, eyebrows knitting as he flicks a look between Keith and the visibly agitated Kosmo. “I can't even have dogs at my apartment.” His shoulders sag and he lets his hand slide off Keith's shoulder. “Sorry, I was just lonely.”

Keith doesn't reply as the guy sighs and stands, shuffling a few steps back before digging in his pocket.

“Here, I got these for him.” He rubs the back of his neck, a sad twist to his smile. “I'll change my running route. You can have them now.”

They slip into Keith's numb fingers without his permission. The happy cartoon dog smiles up at him from the package, hearts in its eyes with a silly speech bubble 'for the very best boys' emblazoned on the front. His own very best boy whines next to him as the man walks away, jerking in little half steps between his splotchy owner and new friend.

The plaintive yip is heartbreaking. Almost as much as the way the guy's broad shoulders tense and slump at the sound, steps dragging and hands shaking as he trudges away.

Kosmo slumps to the ground with a long low howl when he makes it to the sidewalk.

“Wait!”

The shout surprises even Keith as it slips from his mouth. The guy stops, turning just a little.

“Hold on.” Keith scrambles to his feet, holding out a hand for Kosmo to follow as he jogs over. “He... I...” He trails off, looking at the guy's earnest face before thrusting the bag of treats at him. “Here.”

“What?” Grey eyes widen in surprise as the guy shakes his head. “No, it's fine, I don't know any other dogs to-”

“No,” Keith cuts him off, defensive and vulnerable all at once. “I mean... you can give them to him. You can...” He flaps a hand wordlessly before snapping his fingers and pointing at him. Kosmo takes the cue and lunges, all wagging tail and happy yips again he does his best to leap into the guy's arms. “He likes you.”

“I like him.” The guy's smile is like dawn breaking over the horizon as he heaves Kosmo up into a hug, not even straining as his biceps bulge to contain the wriggling beast. “He's my favorite dog of all the dogs I've ever met.”

“Yeah, well...” Keith grumbles, cheeks heating at the praise even if it's not for him. “Just, you know, maybe feed him a little less... he's putting on weight.”

The guy doesn't even blink as he pats Kosmo's tummy, rubbing noses with him. “He is, isn't he?” Kosmo licks his mouth and draws a sputter of laughter. “You're gonna be a chunky boy! Yes you are!”

It's too cute. Keith's heart seizes for the umpteenth time this week, but this time it's not quite so bad.

“Hey, what'd you say your name was again?”

“Oh, I'm Shiro.” He hefts Kosmo into one arm effortlessly and offers his gleaming prosthetic. “Nice to meet you, and thanks for letting me play with your dog.”

“Yeah,” Keith definitely doesn't wheeze at the full might of this guy's smile turned on him. “Anytime, now that I know you're not gonna steal him.”

Kosmo gives another yip and wriggles down from Shiro's hold to sprawl belly up between them. They let out identical coos, helpless against the gravitational pull of open scritching territory as they crouch and oblige him.

“He's just a big ol' smushie sweetheart.” Shiro grins, still baby talking as he rubs down Kosmo's flanks. “He just needs some lovies.”

It's a direct hit.

“Hey,” Keith blurts out, his own hands slowing under Kosmo's furry chin. “Do you wanna go to the dog park with us on Saturday?”

Shiro blinks at him, startled.

“I mean, only if you want to,” Keith hedges, dropping his eyes to the blue-grey fur and rubbing harder. “Since you only see him for a little bit.”

A hand covers his own, drawing his eyes back to Shiro's elated face.

“That'd be amazing.”

He sounds like he's so happy he could cry, and Keith has to wonder just how lonely this guy is.

“Cool.” Keith nods to himself like it's no big deal. “You can stay after for our little picnic thing too if you want... it's just a few friends.”

“Well, if this guy like em they must be okay, right?” Shiro pats Kosmo's side as he aims a shy smile somewhere around Keith's ear. “Thanks, I know you didn't have to let the weird guy play with your dog.”

Keith shrugs and claps him on the shoulder, like it's no big deal and he hasn't been agonizing over it for the better part of the month.

He shrugs again when Pidge asks him all sly why he wants to host again so soon, knowing that he normally loathes people in his space.

And again when people ask him how he and Shiro met.

He doesn't shrug when the best boy to ever carry a pillow trots up the aisle and proudly presents the rings – no, Keith stoops down to smooch his best friend in the whole world – right before doing the same to his new husband, and Kosmo's new dad.


End file.
